"Absolutely. Look, are you free tonight? Well, this
evening. I mean, well, now, really – I don't suppose you are, are you?"

There was another pause, and Greg shook his head at himself.
'Way to go. Play it cool. Fantastic, Gregory. Idiot.'

"Um, I am, actually, yeah. Should I…shall I come to the
shop?"

Greg tucked the phone inbetween his shoulder and ear,
clasped his hands together and sent a quick message of thanks to which deity
might be listening. "That would be…fantastic. I'll be here."

It was only about half an hour later – Mrs Hildebrand
thankfully having made a decision and left – that the bell over the door rang
again.

John stepped inside, an uncertain smile on his face.

Greg beamed. "You have no idea how pleased I am to see
you," he said.

John's own smile widened.

"Now, you can tell me I'm a total piss-taker, but…would
you like an afternoon seeing if you like the job? I mean, I'll pay you…I
just…well, you would be my fucking saviour, I'm telling you."

John nodded, rolled up his sleeves and walked over to the
counter. "Tell me what you want me to do."

Greg paused for a moment, thoughts crowding into his head.
Most of them x-rated.

"Uh…just…watch me, and see how you get on."

Two hours, four mugs of tea and a lot of laughter later,
there were two trays filled with corsages, boutonniers and table centres, all
ready for the wedding the next day.

Greg looked John in the eye.

"Thank you. Thank you so much. I seriously would have
been sunk without your help. Now, the very least I can do is buy you dinner and
a pint down the road at The Cock Inn. If you're up for it, of course."

You've been to all of them, haven't you? I bet you have a list. What was yours called, the one you worked at? Only don't tell me if it had a perfectly normal name, not sure I could cope with the disappointment.

You can be (and are) wonderful nearly every day, but you can't be especially wonderful every day, or I'd have no basis for comparison.

Hmmm. I'll work on that. And I'll never forget the Dumb Post after your fabulous band flyer.

I can say with near 100% certainty that I won't break these with my head - barring freak accidents. And I've got a hard head - as I've now explained to any number of people at Tesco and random strangers on the street.

The best way not to speak with your mouth full is to make sure that you've swallowed everything properly before you open your mouth.

But if John does decide that you need to learn a lesson - and no amount of arse-licking or begging on your knees will persuade him - then I suppose you're just going to have to think hard about what you've done.

I'm carefully tiptoeing around all the rampant innuendo to say that this - Greg tucked the phone inbetween his shoulder and ear, clasped his hands together and sent a quick message of thanks to which deity might be listening - is flat-out adorable.

Innie - it's basically what I did when murderers, an insanely powerful scary mother and the police conspired to throw Danger and I together on a criminal-infested moor. Although the closest thing to a Deity was probably the aforementioned mother.

Iamshadow - I promise to show John's leaky head nothing but the utmost tender loving care.

Ha! You're right. Somewhere around here is a nanny doing a terrible job of protecting a 5 yr old's innocence. And his own innocence (although that's eroding away at a very pleasing rate).

I would apologise - but after the past few weeks of me being nothing but doom and gloom I'm hoping people don't mind a nice bit of ridiculous blogging. You must all be bloody bored of some bits of my life. I know I am. Happily there are other bits which more than make up for it though.

I wouldn't worry about it - he's really too young to understand what it really means and given what the entry started with, he probably read two sentences, declared it boring, and hasn't looked at it since.

I'm sure he'll be fine. A bit of a loner maybe - but maybe not. He's not actively avoiding the other kids at school anymore. And he is only five. Going by what I was like at five, I'd now be a cowboy, or maybe a chef, and you can see how that's turned out.